Paragon of Destruction

Chapter 339 The Blood Ruin

A strong sense of dread filled Arran as he looked at the pale woman before him.

As far as his Sense was concerned, she was nothing but a commoner. And yet, even ignoring her strange appearance, he knew at once that she was terrifyingly powerful.

He subconsciously took two steps backward before stopping himself — whatever she was, running would do little to help him, and it might risk offending her.

Yet while Arran's gaze was fearful, the woman's expression was one of curiosity.

"You bear the legacy of Mardek," she said. "But it's twisted with the power of Narzhan's blood. What are you?"

His fear momentarily forgotten, Arran stared at her in bewilderment. Neither of the names meant anything to him, yet the woman seemed to think he was somehow connected to these people — if that was what they were.

Either way, he could not let the misunderstanding remain. If the woman thought he tried to deceive her, no good would come of it.

"I don't know either of those names," he said carefully, brow furrowed in a deep frown. "Who are they?"

"You carry my brothers' gifts, yet you claim not to know their names?" Anger briefly flashed across the woman's face, but when she recognized that Arran's confusion was genuine, amusement took its place. "You truly don't know, do you?"

Arran shook his head. "I don't."

At this, the pale woman let out a laugh — a dreadful sound that sent a shiver down Arran's spine. And when her white eyes returned to Arran, her expression was one of malicious delight.

"Their memory is fading already?" Gesturing at her body, she said, "This one, she still knew their names. But you say you've never heard of them?" Again, she laughed. "Those fools. To have thought themselves gods, wasting their lives for a people who'd forget them so quickly."

Arran was deeply uncomfortable with the situation, but he could not restrain his curiosity. As dangerous as he knew the woman was, he was certain that she could answer many of his questions — some of which he hadn't even known he had until a moment ago.

"The gifts you mentioned," he began, his voice hesitant. "Do you mean the Dragon's Ruin?"

"Mardek's legacy has been named many things," she replied. "But I am not here to answer your questions. For the diversion you provided me today, I will grant you your life. Collect your spoils, then leave my domain. Do not return."

Before Arran could respond, she seemed to fade into the shadows, disappearing from his view entirely just an instant later.

For several moments, he stood silently, eyes fixed on the spot where the woman had just stood. Yet no sign of her remained. As far as his eyes and Sense could tell, she'd never been there at all, and even his sword detected nothing.

Arran could not help but be shocked by the casual display of power. His Sense was strong enough that no common mage should be able to fool it, and his sword's Sense should see through even the strongest mages' disguises.

And yet, the woman had vanished before his eyes. Which could only mean that her powers far exceeded not just his own, but those of virtually any mage he'd ever encountered.

The two self-proclaimed gods, Panurge and Senecio, could likely do the same. And although he couldn't be certain, Arran suspected that Master Zhao was capable of such feats as well.

But other than those three, he didn't know a single mage he believed capable of evading his sword's Sense so easily. Not even Karanos, who'd spent untold years within the Shadow Realm.

The thought was a discomfiting one, but Arran quickly put it aside.

The woman had told him to collect his spoils and leave the cavern, and that was exactly what he intended to do. Once he'd returned to the relative safety of the mines, there would be plenty of time to ponder everything that had happened.

At once, he set off to retrieve the pieces of starmetal he'd earlier Sensed within the cavern.

Much as he'd expected, they turned out to be pieces of armor, many of them still attached to torn pieces of dark leather. The armor that had failed to protect the Knight, he knew.

Yet he found no trace of the Knight's other possessions. This was a disappointment to Arran, but not a surprise. He understood that the strange woman had somehow taken the Knight's body for herself, and it seemed that with the body, she'd also taken the Knight's possessions.

Briefly, he wondered whether the Knight had still been alive when her body was taken, and found that neither possibility made him the least bit more comfortable.

Rather than dwelling on the issue, he quickly turned his attention to his next task — butchering the three giant creatures he'd slain and gathering their meat.

While he'd prefer to leave the cavern sooner rather than later, that was something he could not skip. He'd lacked proper food ever since he emerged from the Shadow Realm, and now that he'd finally found a replacement for his dragon meat, he would not soon abandon it.

The task took him well over a day of hard labor. The work was difficult to begin with, and as most of the strength he'd gained from killing a cavern full of diggers faded away, it became even harder.

When he finally finished the work, he could not help but smile in satisfaction.

The giant diggers' meat was nearly as potent as the dragon's meat he'd lost, but the amount was far greater — enough to last him a very long lifetime, if he figured out a way to keep it from going bad.

He cast a last look at the vast, dark cavern. He knew that there were other tunnels to explore, leading even deeper underground — perhaps to even greater challenges and rewards.

Yet to go any further would certainly draw the pale woman's ire, and he had no illusions about his ability to match her.

He sighed, then turned to the narrow tunnel that would lead him back to the mines. And as he approached it, he drew his sword.

When he entered the tunnel, he did not hurry in making his way back to the mines. Instead, he laboriously collapsed the tunnel behind him as he progressed, his Living Shadow blade crushing and cutting through the rock with ease.

It was slow work, and twice, part of the tunnel collapsed on top of him, forcing him to dig his way through tons of rock. Yet he could not risk leaving the passage open — not if the mercenaries were to spend months mining beneath the mountains.

Although he'd cleared the cavern of diggers, he did not believe they were the only creatures that lurked in the depths. And whatever else would enter the cavern in their absence might well be worse.

The task took him nearly two days, and when he finally stepped into the mines once more, he was swaying on his feet with exhaustion.

The strength he'd gained from killing thousands of diggers was long gone, and although some small part of it had strengthened him permanently, that wasn't enough to erase the fatigue of the previous half-week.

He only barely managed to put up some wards, and then, without even bothering to lay down blankets, he fell asleep on the cold rock floor.

Without the sky to tell him the time, he did not know how long he slept. Yet when he awoke, his exhaustion was gone and hunger had taken its place.

This was easily remedied, since he now possessed a supply of meat that would make even the cooks of the Ninth Valley exclaim in astonishment. And he did not hold back in making full use of it, eating digger meat until his body felt like it could burst if he so much as took another bite.

Then, rested and nourished, he leaned back against the tunnel wall and turned his thoughts to the events of the previous days.

Even now, he felt some unease when he remembered the pale woman — or rather, the being that had taken the Knight's body for itself.

While she hadn't told him much, what little she'd said raised numerous questions in Arran's mind.

Foremost among these was the identity of Mardek and Narzhan — the people or creatures whose legacies he supposedly carried. He had little doubt of what these legacies were — the Dragon's Ruin and the Blood magic that had tainted it.

He'd believed the two were entirely separate things, combined through sheer chance, with one an innate power of dragons and the other some dark kind of magic. Yet from the woman's words, it sounded like their original sources were different ones — ones related to what the woman had called her brothers.

This, at least, made sense to Arran. He'd long wondered how the two powers could have combined so perfectly. But if their ultimate origins were similar in nature, then it made more sense for them to have merged so well.

And that they had merged well, he knew for a fact. In truth, what he had no longer fully resembled either of the powers he'd received. It wasn't so much a blood-infused Dragon Ruin that coursed through his veins, but something new altogether.

A frown crossed Arran's face, and after a moment's thought, he decided that it was perhaps better called a Blood Ruin — because although it filled his blood with power, if the world discovered it, it would ruin him as surely as the Dragon's Ruin ruined dragons.

Brow creased in thought, he remembered the woman's other words — how her supposed brothers had thought themselves gods, and wasted their lives for a people who would not appreciate the gift.

At once, Arran was reminded of the Imperium's priests. He'd long wondered what gods they worshipped, and now, he thought he might have the beginning of an answer.

Of course, if that answer was right, it only added to his problems. Because if what the Imperium worshipped as gods were real beings, then the aid they provided might be more than just the strength of faith.

It was a thoroughly unpleasant thought, and one that caused him serious concerns — both for his own mission and for the Ninth Valley's chances against the Imperium. If the Imperium had beings strong enough to call themselves gods on its side, then the situation might be even bleaker than he already thought.

Yet Arran knew that there was nothing to gain from despair.

When he returned to the surface, he would have to find some Darian priests and try to learn what he could about their gods.

That, at least, should be a simple matter. Finding a priest willing to extol the virtues of his gods should be as easy as finding a dog willing to chew a bone. All he would need was to feign a sufficient amount of piety.

Still, he could not help but sigh when he thought about the work ahead. He'd have to study the Forms, find more information about the Imperium, train the mercenaries he commanded, and question the Darian priests about their gods.

And most importantly, he would have to address the weaknesses he'd found in his fighting skills during the battle. Because although he had achieved victory, the fight had allowed him to see several problems that had previously slipped his attention.

Again, he sighed deeply. But then, he stood up from the ground, and began to make his way back to the surface.